


Rising Up.

by HC247



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5813083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HC247/pseuds/HC247
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friend in need is a friend indeed. Especially in a hour of...unusual need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising Up.

_Tick..tick...tick..._

A deep sigh escapes his lips as his fingers work to straighten the caravel nestled at his neck.

_Tick... tick....tick..._

Anyone who dared to imagine this would ever come to pass would have received only laughter in their face.

_Tick... tick..._

Still, a man with the mentality twice his early years would learn early to admit that things have a strange way of working out in a way he or anyone else would ever plan.

_Tick...Gong_

The deep chimes of the clock signaled the noon hour. The day of reckoning was at hand and the time for action was now.

_It's been a pleasure knowing you, my friend._

* * *

 

Even as he strode down the hall, he could only imagine what must be happening in the room a few doors down. Slight, feminine giggles pricked at his ears, their dulcet tones vaguely distant and he smiled to himself. There would be plenty of them later, no doubt vying for his attentions, affections, or whatever bite they could manage.

As tempting of a mortal could away him, he kept his attention at the door down the stairs and at the end of the hall where his fellow men are assembling and readying themselves for the coming events. A good soldier never moved without a battle plan firmly in place and this one had been meticulously planned right down to the color coordinated handkerchief in his pocket.

Drawing near, he heard a slight commotion coming from within and was mildly surprised to see his fellow comrades frantically pacing. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

Laurens glanced up at him, his features schooled to barely conceal his concern. "She's gone."

"Gone?"

Lafayette affirmed Laurens's word with a nod. "Completely vanished into thin air. It's almost as if she never existed."

Suppressing a sigh, he took a seat in the chair Laurens had vacated moments earlier. "Have the ladies been notified? Perhaps they may some idea..."

"I've already asked Angelica," Laurens supplied with a shake of his head. "She's done her best to search without alarming Eliza, but it seems to be in vain. For whatever reason, the girl has up and disappeared without a trace."

"And the wedding begins in an hour. _Sacre Blu_ ," Lafayette muttered.

"Come, gentleman. There must be some solution here." Rising, he placed a hand on each man's shoulder. "We have fought an enemy greater than this and lived to tell the tale. Now, Alexander has promised his bride that today would be perfection. Now, it is up to us to see that it is so." Squaring his shoulders and standing a little straighter, he commanded. "Take me to Angelica."

* * *

On a snowy, December day in 1780, Alexander Hamilton and Eliza Schuyler were married at her father's mansion in Albany, New York.

All around,candles gleamed, bathing the room in an ethereal glow. The first notes of the orchestra sparingly lightly to life, soon growing into a majestic swell as the bridal procession made it's way. Angelica Schuyler led, her smile as bright as the colorful flowers she carried in her hands. Her eyes met Alexander's briefly, holding a equal parts amusement and adoration as she quickly glanced over her shoulder.

Uncertainty colored Hamilton's face for a brief moment as Peggy Schuyler, escorted by the Maquis de Lafayette followed Angelica's steps, only to be replaced by an brief, unflattering combination of shock, hilarity and confusion. 

Hercules Mulligan, dressed in full official regalia, strode confidently down the bridal aisle, a basket a rose petals settled comfortably in his hands. The petals fell softly to the carpeted aisle, just as planned, tho by a very different person than originally intended. Alexander and Hercules worked to keep a straight face, for if they knew that if their eyes were to met, gawking laughter would certainly follow.

There would be time for that later, but still, the slight chuckles and murmurs passing through the crowd of guests made their goal of suppression exponentially more difficult.

Thankfully Hamilton's salvation came in the form of his bride. Clinging to her father's arm, Eliza's eyes met his and she offered him a small smile as she stepped towards him. Briefly, her gaze flicked to Hercules and her lips thinned and pulled into a knowing smirk, inclining her head slightly in thanks before taking Alexander's hand.

In the years to come, that moment would become and infamous story, told over and often to the tune of raucous laughter and good-natured ribbing from all involved in the wedding day scheme. Still, more than that, it would stand as a testament to the bonds of brotherhood forged through war and an example of what one will do for a friend.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Hamilton fic!
> 
> I saw a gif on Tumblr in which Hercules Mulligan is the "flower girl" in A. Ham's wedding, thought it was hilarious, and wondered, "There has to be a story here."
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed and will leave a comment on your way out. Thanks!


End file.
